


unexpected bonuses

by SerpentineJ



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, basically domestic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4301439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis wakes to the smell of bacon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unexpected bonuses

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: So I figured I’d put out a little domestic fluff before we dive into the bottomless bucket of angst possibilities this ship provides.

The dawn sunlight shafts through the bedroom, painting itself warmly over the richly painted walls and the lacquered wood of the bookcases, and Francis groans as it passes directly over his eyes. The smell of breakfast permeates the air, and he feels the rumble of his stomach making the decision of whether or not to leave the warm comfort of the bed for him.

He pads into the kitchen, still sleepy, in pale pajamas.

“You need to invest in some curtains.” Francis says, stifling a yawn as he moves to lean on the counter, watching Wesley scoop scrambled eggs onto two plates and put the bacon on.

James looks up at him, cocks an eyebrow. Smirks.

“Sir.” The other tacks on, grinning. “Not everyone wants to wake up as freakishly early as you do.”

Wesley smiles at that, turning the bacon in the pan.

“This is New York, Francis.” He chuckles. “It’s called ‘the city that never sleeps’ for a reason: work doesn’t follow a nine-to-five for us.”

The redhead moves to take the juice out of the fridge. Wesley carries their plates to the table, where he has to push some of Francis’s pens and pencils out of the way to be able to set them down- they eat their breakfast in companionable conversation, tossing subjects back and forth.

“So what’s on our agenda today?” Francis finally asks as he’s spearing the last bits of bacon from his plate, looking up at Wesley with more loyal innocence than a twenty-five year old bodyguard has any right to have.

James sighs, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin before flipping open his tablet.

“Well.” He says, scanning down the page, “Fisk has a few business meetings today- the Russians, the Chinese.” Wesley pauses. “Don’t pickpocket the Chinese bodyguards again, Francis- they weren’t very happy last time. The man asked to have you fired.”

Francis drains the last of his orange juice. “Yes, sir.” He smirks.

James rolls his eyes.

~~~~~~

The day passes as they usually do. Francis does a lot of bodyguarding and driving, Fisk stays in the shadows, and Wesley wears the persona of ‘calm and collected advisor’ as flawlessly as he wears his actual suit- dark, of course, with a maroon tie and a perfectly pressed pocket square- and it’s odd, Francis thinks, their lifestyle: danger and paranoia has become so commonplace that it is considered normalcy.

Wesley reads before he goes to bed. Sometimes classics, sometimes less than classics- he has at least five romance novels that he denies are hidden in his apartment, but Francis found them ages ago- they were behind the false backing of one of the cabinets.

Francis doesn’t have a before-bed routine. Sometimes he sketches, charcoal rubbing off on his fingers that James will chastise him about, making him wash his hands before he can sully his crisp white linen. Sometimes he watches movies, which James will occasionally join him for- an action film, maybe, or comedy. Francis likes cop shows. On the rare occasion that they’ll put on a romance flick, Francis always ends up with his head pillowed on Wesley’s shoulder, breathing softly, drifting between consciousness and a dreamy near-sleep.

James cries sometimes, at the more emotional ones. He’ll blush and bluster if Francis brings it up.

Francis thinks it’s cute.

He wonders if this is their happy ending.

~~~~~~

James takes forever to undress.

“Hurry up. ‘s cold.” Francis murmurs, pulling the duvet closer around himself, shifting on his pillow.

Wesley shakes his head, re-buttoning all the buttons on his dress shirt once it’s off, folding it neatly into the drawer of his dresser- Francis is less delicate with his clothing, and James always ends up straightening his out, too. The redhead doesn’t get why it matters so much. He’s a bodyguard- all his suits look the same.

When Wesley finally slides under the covers, Francis is already half asleep- not too far gone, though, to not wrap his arm around James’s stomach, cheek resting on the other’s shoulder, his head more on James’s pillow than his own.

“You’re very clingy.” Wesley huffs, folding his glasses and setting them on his bedside table. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

Francis chuckles into the other’s skin. “A few times.”

“Go to sleep, Francis.”

“Good night, James.”

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: so? what did you think???   
> [who wants to cry w me about this rare ship on tumblr?](http://serpentinej.tumblr.com)


End file.
